The Fifth Quarter Quell
by smcavender24
Summary: Emmy's mom buys her way into the Hunger Games. When she is forced  into the Arena, will she be able to adapt to her surroundings and survive?  Or  does she even have the strength to be the last one standing?
1. Chapter 1

I walked home, the gravel crunching under my feet. Slowly, my house came into view. It looked really small from the outside; most wouldn't realize how big it was until they were standing at the front door. It really was a pretty house. Honeysuckle climbed the stone walls to the roof, roses bloomed on lattices in the garden, which was dotted with brightly hued tulips and peonies. My mother loved to garden; it was the one thing she could do for hours. She was good at it too. She has a green thumb.

I stepped in through the front door, planning to go upstairs to my bedroom. I was kicking off my old, dirt covered tennis shoes when I heard them. My mom, talking to someone I had never heard before.

"She's... difficult." My mother said, her voice muffled. She hesitated for a moment, as if scared she had said the wrong thing, before continuing. "I mean, I love her, but she is quite stubborn. I've been training her for months, but she absolutely _refuses _volunteer. I know she can win the Games. She just needs to have confidence in herself. I need your help. Will you do it?"

I stood pressed against the wall separating the dining room from the entryway of our house, eavesdropping. It was obvious my mom was talking about me participating in the Hunger Games, but who could she be talking to? And what does she need help with? My mom was the kind of person who wasn't scared to do anything; she loved taking risks. I think they make her feel important.

Then, an annoyingly high-pitched voice with a ridiculous Capitol accent replied. "Of course. You have been most generous; don't worry. Your daughter will have a place in this year's Hunger Games."

I quickly sucked in a breath, filling my lungs past their normal capacity. Ever so slowly, I released it through my nose. I was past seeing reason; my mother had just sent me off to my death.

How dare she. My mother, who has cared and nurtured me, thinks of me as nothing more than a ticket to fame and glory through the Hunger Games. She doesn't even realize the fact that I don't _want_ to be in the Hunger Games, let alone _win. _I knew I would die in those Games, that those horrid people would have no sympathy on me and kill me at their first chance. The other tributes would have to be insane to even consider forming an alliance with me; I have nothing to offer. Nothing to guarantee me success. Yet here she was, sending me off to die. Like I was nothing.

The sound of the chairs scraping back on the luxurious wooden floor is what brought me back to my senses.

"Thank you so much for your help."

"Any time, darling, any time. I can't wait to see how this turns out; it should make for quite an interesting Hunger Games after all."

Footsteps began to ring out through the open house; I quickly scrambled up the stairs to my bedroom. Behind me, I heard a door closing. The District 1 escort had just left our house, after promising my mother the glory of having her only child be in the 125th Annual Hunger Games.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though I'm from District 1, I hate the Capitol. I can't stand it. It's full of sick, malicious people who delight in the idea of sending children off to a painful, torturous, humiliating death in front of all of Panem.

The idea of having to participate in the Games turns my stomach. If I had a choice, I would absolutely refuse to do it. Normally, being from District 1, this wouldn't be a problem. Volunteers are seemingly abundant in our District. But being a Quarter Quell, there is always a twist to the Games; and this year, there would be quite a few. One of these was that there would be no Volunteers.

Besides that fact, there's also sure to be some macabre twist to the Game to make it more 'entertaining' for the murder-loving citizens of the Capitol.

Knowing there was no way to escape, I knew I would just have to accept the fact that my mother had sold me to the Games and I was on the way to my death. I would never forgive her. But that doesn't matter; after today, I would never see her again.

"Sweetie, Emmy, get ready for the Reaping! And this time, _please_ wear something nice!" I rolled my eyes in disgust at the sound of my mother's voice vibrating through the house. I knew, though, that I would have to listen to her.

Normally, I couldn't care less what I wore, but this year I had to admit I would have to have a different attitude. I had to at least try to win, if I had any self-respect, which I did.

I went to my humungous closet, and walked through, running my fingers over the millions of dresses that varied in size, color, length, fabric, cut, design... no two were alike.

I decided on shiny, white silk dress with a pearlescent shine. This simple, strapless dress exaggerated the slimness of my waist and emphasized the muscles on my arms. White was probably about the only color that actually looked good on me. With my just-past-the-shoulder length shiny, straight, bright red hair and big blue eyes, it was just about the only color that didn't make me look ridiculously overdressed.

I slipped on my leather bracelet with a pearl decorating the middle, a gleaming silver necklace that fell down to my chest, and some petite leather flats. I looked like an actual tribute from District 1.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I finally grasped the concept that I was _actually_ going to the Games. Fear seized my mind, telling me that I couldn't die, that I couldn't loose. I had to survive. There was no other option.


	3. Chapter 3

I took slow, paced steps up to the section that was roped off solely for the 17 year olds. I hardly noticed anyone else; how could I, when fear had invaded my mind? I stood, shaking, waiting for Sunny, the District 1 escort that had inhabited my house only an hour before, to take the stage.

Someone came up behind me and slid their arms around my waist, lifting me gently off the dirt ground. I screamed softly, being thoroughly surprised. The person spun me around then put me back on the ground.

"Hi, Emmy." Patrick whispered in my ear. Before I knew it, he had my face cupped in his hard, scar-covered hands and kissed me sweetly.

I pulled away and smiled, forgetting my fears for a moment. Up until this year, Patrick and I had always stood together when waiting for the tributes to be announced. Last year, though, he was picked. He went to the Capitol, and participated in the horrid Games. The entire time, I had been out of my mind with worry. Against all odds, though, he won. Ever since he came back, he has not been the same. Now, he had to be a mentor; control the flow of gifts from sponsors, ready the tributes for the nightmarish games that they were about to compete in.

Patrick... I couldn't believe he had come to see me. He should be up on the stage right now, waiting to meet the next tributes. I hugged him close to me, and laid my head on his chest. It seemed impossible that in just a few moments we would be heading off to the Capitol.

"Hey, Emmy, I have to go. I promise: before I leave, I'll come see you again, okay?"

"Okay." I whispered, barely able to utter anything else. I couldn't tell him what else I knew; he would try to stop it. Run away with me. Protect me however he could. I was so overflowed with emotions, I could barely think straight. It would be a miracle if I could actually make my way up to the stage.

I felt his fingers slip out of mine, and then he was gone. Just like that, I was alone.

Not a second later, though, a loud static filled the air, causing everyone to turn towards the stage. Our escort, Sunny, was standing there, in the most ridiculous outfit yet. She seemed determined to be wearing every color of the rainbow. Framed with her neon yellow hair, It was hard to believe that we would ever be taken seriously as a District.

"Hello, hello. And welcome to the 125th Annual Hunger Games Reaping!" She announce in her annoyingly high-pitched voice. I thought it was quite obvious it had been genetically enhanced several times, making it almost unbearable to listen to.

I forced myself to tune her out while she rambled on and on about the history of the Games and how they brought us all together. This way, I could focus on my last moments as a District 1 citizen. I would never again be able to sit at my secret cave, and write all of my invented stories. I would never again attend that school that I had deemed the worst place in the world, that now seemed so desirable compared to where I was going. Worst, I would never have those afternoons of just Patrick and me, alone, at the secluded lake's beach just past the fences of our District.

Then, she was reaching her hand into the crystal bowl, the one that had all of the girl's names written on little slips of paper. Letting her fingers drip over and stroke the pieces of paper, luxuriating in the full attention of every citizen in Panem, knowing it was being broadcasted live, she reached down, and daintily plucked one out of the bowl.

Unfolding the little, pristine white slip of paper, she cleared her throat, and in a clear voice, announced with false surprise, "Emmy Birche!"

Gulping, I steeled myself to walk up onto the stage to shake her hand. I took slow, deliberate steps up to the raised platform and tripped up the stairs.

Following the same routine, she selected a boy's name from the crystal bowl on her left. As distraught as I was, I didn't hear the boy's name. Only shook his hand and then continued to be marched off of the platform and into the Justice Building.

**Sorry it's so short... I'm trying to decide whether or not I should continue it. I have a few ideas, but...  
>Please review and let me know what you think<strong>


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